Rising to the Occasion of the Empty Office Halls

I love the empty office during the holiday weeks.  The halls are quiet and the well trodden carpet can absorb the little noise that drifts down the halls.


I can focus on my office and spend some desperately needed time cleaning and uncluttering the desk, credenza, table and the bookshelf ( I am sure that I had a great reason for saving this, blackmail? documenting some momentous event? cool doodles on the side?)

It is a time to look at the plant given me the week I started seven years ago.  The poor thing would appreciate a tad of fertilizer and a serious trimming.  It is amazing that it has lived this long in a little bowl with no drain and artificial light.  The rings on the desk where the water missed the bowl could use a shining as well.


The positive thing is that the coffee pot is not emptied before you get back, but the burners are turned off by the over protective secretary down the hall.  Geez, we can't have the coffee sit for too long or the building burns down? (does she know I am the fire captain for my area?) I hear her at the receptionist telling her how the coffee pot was full and no one is drinking it and it is such a waste.  The funny receptionist goes on and on about Christmas dinner and the presents her mother gave to the children and nutcrackers are still real in her family and the nuts are really still cracked and the children don't appreciate where all the nuts come from.......  The secretary leaves to get tea.  I will have to remember that strategy.

Since the phones aren't ringing and the internet is faster, I am pretty sure that the amount of real work getting done or left to do is not the issue of the day.  The real issue is that "I am here and others are not.  So, since I have made this monumental sacrifice to stay, I just get to do the office version of couch surfing when the phone doesn't ring" kind of attitude.  People aren't overly engaging, unless you are unlucky enough to run into the secretary or the receptionist.

Lovely though, is the bathrooms are clean and stay that way. And also,the kitchen is clean and sort of stays that way after I load the dishwasher.

I did get time to do the extra thinking, to watch that training video that I have put off for three weeks.  I listened to the the budget class that I paid for, but did not actually watch. caught up on the fleeting last minute to do lists that were left undone by December 23rd ( and we did not get any of that done yet still).

And the best part of the empty office is that I break out my Christmas leftovers and pop them in the microwave and eat them with aplomb.  I savor the sweet potato chipolte dish that I made and no one else liked.  I warm the feta scones that were extra and a piece of ham that was set aside (by me!). And I can eat without a phone or a person asking me something and I am actually reading and enjoying the time.

Yep, Christmas week at work, almost like an extra gift!

Rising to the Occasion of Yuletide Presents and Baking

Tonight, I pulled the two, go to, Bakers on my list for Cookies that express my feelings.  My two favorites are Martha Stewart and Joy the Baker.  And pistachios and chocolate are the things they have in common.  I love working with both of those in the holiday  baking efforts!

Planning ingredients and number of bags and tins that I will prepare, I stop to ponder some of the best gifts that I have received in holidays past.  Food for sure, there is someone who gives me homemade fig preserves every year and I love it.  But this is the "best column" that does not include gifts from children or husbands, not rings from grandmothers, or family heirlooms.

No, I mean gifts from friends or co workers that really strike a chord.

The presents that I use the most are sort of simple and so easy!  First, is an initialed  leather manicure kit that came from a mail order catalog that I normally would associate with old people ( I get to say that now!).  It is from a friend that I don't see anymore, but I think of her with every trip, when I pack the little kit. Thanks you Laura!

The next is an MP3 player with music on it.  I love that little orange thing.  And someone else taught me how to use Amazon music to download new tunes.  You have no idea how many different dancers I have been, Ginger Rogers, Christina Aguilar, Charo, Shakira or Patty Cantu.  The friend who gave me that, gave me so much happiness.  Floors have never been mopped with such enthusiasm or rhythm.  thank you Tami!
The last is the gift card.  True confessions, I give my gift cards to charity.  I am blessed with a job that gives us cards for the holidays, so I give the excess to charity in honor of someone else.  The Children's Lighthouse is just down the road from me.  I got this idea from a friend who gave me a gift from Heifer International.  How many times do you get to say someone gave you chickens in a flock for Christmas!

I know they are simple, but simple counts.  Especially, when needing a set of jumper cables, which is not something that you contemplate when it is an emergency.  And my brother is the jumper cable King.  He gave them to me and all of my children in a nice little bag for our cars.  And actually taught me how to use them as well. Gifts that keep on giving, I can tell you, I have loaned them more than used them. Thank you Charles Bawl!

Not knowing the people that I am baking for (my husband's co workers), I am forging ahead with my Martha Stewart and Joy the Baker recipes. Because I don't know this crowd well enough to know that they would like a monogrammed anything.

My thought is to try your best, keep it simple and then stand back and let the season happen. the  beauty of the holiday is that it passes and no one says, "oh no, it is not time for cookies".  

I have a correction to make.  While the yuletide spirit of recognition for Mike giving me the Heifer gift was indeed my memory, it is incorrect.  Mike gave me a local food bank gift.  I had the thought right, but the gift wrong.  So thank you Mike.  and Thank you Heifer.  I am still buying chickens for the people in Ecuador...  And you inspired that.

Update, I used the other gift that keeps giving tonight, the Christmas measuring spoons. Pistachio smoked salt dark chocolate cookies and of course those Chocolate Pistachio biscotti!

Update Two: those Christmas measuring spoons give again with the feta scones!

Rising to the Challenge of the new Intimacy

The very nature of the modern world is to be anonymous to most, known to a few, and understood by fewer.  Or at least is what it used to be.  Now, I think intimacy is changing to reflect the technology and the way we communicate.  We can be intimate and outrageously public at the same time.  We can reveal in an un revealing way.  Conversely, some levels of intimacy and its opposite, anonymity are quite the same. 

Recently, I hired a Ted Talks speaker for an event and the speaker requested a car transport from the airport.  I assigned my assistant to be the chauffeur of the day and concluded that we were all set.  Wrong wrong.  The speaker said no, that would not do, as work needed to be done privately, so she would need a hired driver and car.  

(This is an ad with credit to the creator so hope it is fine).

At first I was offended, after all it was my assistant, and she is loyal and dedicated.  And then I started to ponder why this is so critical. On the surface, the speaker knows neither the hired chauffeur or the assistant.  But the assistant has a relationship with me, the one paying the speaker.  So there is an implied intimacy, that might require conversation between them, or more stressful, the assistant hearing conversation that the speaker did not want shared with the payer.  So if true anonymity is the desired affect, the having the implied intimacy of my assistant is not acceptable.

This made me think of the intimate moments on elevators.  You cannot get much closer than a packed elevator, and yet our intimacy is usually shared with silence, heads down, eyes trying to avert.  Touching and trying ever so hard not to touch.  Breathing and hoping not to smell anything or anyone.  We want to be anonymous. Not intimate.  So what makes a moment intimate or anonymous?  How do we look at the communications and tell?  Starting with the traditional definitions, Intimacy conjures up images of mothers and babies, lovers, secrets, secret lovers, pillows, diaries and so much more...

in.ti.ma.cy   is defined as: 1. The condition of being intimate. 2. An instance of being intimate. and then there is intimate, which is a verb and an adjective...  as you will see in the link to the definition.  But for our purposes (this is not a grammar lesson), we shall address intimate as the adjective....

intrinsic, essential belonging to or characterizing one's deepest nature

• marked by very close association, contact, or familiarity
• marked by a warm friendship developing through long association
• suggesting informal warmth or privacy 
• of a very personal or private nature

So the two descriptions work together as one describes time and one describes action or substance.  Intimacy can be a one time car ride (as can anonymity) or intimacy can be a long term sharing or revealing.  I tend to think of intimacy as a revealing of an private or personal matter, one that I hold dear, but that is an old fashioned view of intimacy.  For the moments on the internet and the theatre screens that I have cried over someone's joy or tragedy were just as intimate, but the other party does not know that.  Just I do.  Which brings me to the internet as an intimate forum.

There is much ado about postings on social media and how the "youth" are revealing their inner most secrets on the internet.  And I am sure that there are many moments that one would wish that they had not memorialized on their Facebook pages.  But truthfully, those moments of sharing are not intimate at all.  In fact, I would think they are more intended to be personal, but lose the intimacy in the blatant exaggerated boast.  If the internet didn't exist, these are the kids who would climb the water tower and paint their name, or race loud cars down the road, or wear ultra tight or revealing clothing to announce their presence.

But the internet does offer the true opportunity to be revealing and intimate at the same time.  I have family and friends with real issues such as medical problems or difficult spouses or loneliness who are  truly sharing intimate thoughts and feelings with those they intend to read them, but also 500 of those peoples' closest friends.  The fact that the others see the post does not negate the intimacy of the moment. or the photo. or the feeling of the intended reader.

So does it diminish the experience for the person sharing as long as the intended has read it and responded?  No.  I don't think it does.  And here is why.  Within two seconds of seeing a post, you have figured out if it matters, if it is interesting and if you care enough to look at the whole thing.  the information being intimate and personal for another is gleaned by the reader and they are moving on if it doesn't apply to their life.  Example, my friends could be posting about a funeral of a former co worker, but if my French class buddies see it, they are moving on down the scroll.  They will not dwell where they do not receive the feed back that this pertains to them.

So, announce away your blood test results or your GRE score.  Most people won't care.  Most people, especially if you have "friend-ed" hundreds will not see it.  Algorithms changed all that. Google makes a living knowing and selling that.  Take care and post away.

Rising to the Good Doctor Appointment

Recently, I went with my mother (and father) to the doctor.  I had somehow psyched my self into believing that this would be a momentous occasion for medicine.

Turns out that it is three pills at 8:30 a.m

Inflammation that went on too long and white cells started attaching so vehemently that they started being more of a problem than an asset.

So here is my take away from the doctor visit:

Are you a doctor or nurse practitioner or pharmacist?  if not, don't freak out and search the web and come to your own random conclusion. Do perform research, do be informed. symptom checker.

 Don't panic.  I cannot tell you how many diseases my friends have diagnosed themselves with.  Even comedians make fun of their friends who have every weird disease in the book or the disease of the day.


Are you going with someone else to be the support?  Take notes.  That person will be in the more tense position.  They may not be concentrating on anything but the verdict.  So, be helpful and take notes of the peripheral conversation. And of course, don't forget to share with the patient!

Be fun.  NO, REALLY, be FUN.


The big fun at this visit was a sign that said," botox injections" at the proctology office.  (NOT HAPPENING!)  I had to ask the nurse, does anyone ever ask for botox in this office, seriously?  She turned and looked at me and said,"you can see who are patients are."  nuff said.

The nurses and doctors have a tough job, tight schedules.  When they meet you be appreciative, be a good listener, compliment their smile, patience, concern.  Sometimes, I even compliment the furrowed brow, telling them their concern is appreciated.  Notice the wedding ring or the children photos, and ask if they are or where they are.... ask how their children are.  Make it personal. Make it very personal. It is the best way to get them to focus on you and yours in a day full of the same patients.

My father doesn't like having to be the pill monitor and the dishwasher and the morning cook.  He is a 1950s husband used to having dinner prepared and served.  I am sure everyone has their own perspective on that.  But, most would be happy that their partner is there.  That they can be in charge, even if they don't want to be.  And grateful that they are able.

At least that is the discussion in my house.  I hope my husband steps up to do my medication.  And I hope I never need it.  And I hope I am there for my parents.

PS Had the follow up doctor appointment today.  Mom is a non-compliant patient, who did not take the meds as she was told.  So she is trying again.  And my father who is a monitor of sorts is once again tasked with helping her remember. Neither wants to be compliant and neither wants to be in the doctor office anymore. Geez, Louise.....

Keeping on Keeping on

So Keeping on Keeping on is an old expression from my youth.  Definition: keep trying; keep doing what you are doing,  So what has happened since the last post is myriads of Mothers telling me of similar experiences to mine.  When I called my amex card to book a flight to Europe to stay with my daughter, she shared her own daughter's story.  It was amazing to have yet another mother reach out to me to tell me not to worry, and to try and let go.

So funny, that at 3:30 a.m. a stranger from Spain calls to speak to Morgan.  I ask who he is and why he is calling and he keeps talking about a bus to Andorra and I tell him no that I booked Paris. Then, I finally wake up enough to know, he was not speaking about me!  He was calling about her.

Six weeks later, I have been to France to meet her and I have returned. And she has gone on to Brussels, Paris, Basel, Berlin, Amsterdam and who knows where else. She has mastered the rail.

I no longer worry and she no longer fears calling me to tell me she has no plan.

How lovely an idea, to have no plan.

Rising to the Foggy Farm Morning

The fog is thick and the moisture just hangs in the air.  I swear that you collect droplets as I walk to the pasture to call the horses for breakfast.

 In no particular hurry, they walk up the long hill taking strides that should shake the ground they are so deliberate.

I love the grey horses and the foggy morning and the light just enough to catch the motion.

It is a peaceful beginning to Sunday morning and it gives one appreciation for the simplicity of the animals, the quiet of the fog and the time to reflect on how lucky we truly are.

Rising to the Return from Vacation

I have not taken a two week vacation in at least 15 years.  It was FABULOUS! The thing about the two weeks is that the first week you still think about work and check your emails, the second week you so don't care!  You stop grinding your teeth and your shoulders relax.  Your hips realign because you are not driving as much as you used to.  I am telling you there is a huge difference between the four day steal that I have done for the last 15 years and the two week vacation.

And then, when I thought I got back into the groove of work,  my daughter calls crying from Switzerland.  The tears were clear in the voice, even with the lag of wi fi conversation.  And I miss her as much as she misses a great plan for mass transit.  She is dreadfully upset with the Euro Rail options for an on the move back packer.

Rick Steves be darned, she is a college grad with a non-plan plan. And Europe is supposed to be aware of her intentions.  Well, not that bad really, but she is very displeased with the limitations of non reserved second class seats.  Though after looking at her pass, she has logged at least 20 rides maybe 30 from one place to another, including Croatia and Hungary as well as France, England and Ireland.  All in all, I think she has gotten her value from the pass and she has gotten value from the experience.  How wonderful she has the opportunity.

So, I miss her when she calls and I want her to be having a great time and enjoying the diversity.  For soon, she will return to Tallahassee, which by comparison, will feel small and not so much like Notre Dame.  But it will feel like home.

Home because her dog is here.  Her kitty is here.  Her horses are here.  And somewhere way down the list are her parents and family members.  And we will embrace her return and wait for the next opportunity to celebrate her announcement.  I for one, am not in any hurry.

But back to my reintegration into the work place...  I have worked now for three full days and I was so tired on Friday!  I went to bed at nine p.m. and slept until five thirty a.m. I got up Saturday morning feeling groggy and hit by a truck.  The fact that my ribs had not healed from the fall in Bordeaux reminded me not to move quickly.

I have to say it felt good to be in my own bed.  And so nice to have my own bathroom back with my things in it and my own towels.  And even nicer to discover that my husband had vacuumed the floor and cleaned the sinks!  lovely homecoming.

I am already plotting my next escape.  I hope before the return to France in 2014 for the World Equestrian Games.  I would love to see Australia or New Zealand or even more of California.  Pennies in a sack, every day, I drop my pennies in a sack....

Glad to be home, so glad to have a home to come home to!

Rising to Leaving It is really hard to do

Leaving our little spot in Bordeaux at 7:30 a.m. was sad.  Sadder yet, because last night, I got up to find the bathroom and before I knew it, down on the ground, banged into the large stone in the bottom of a four foot cave.  I just stayed there for a moment before I realized that I was hurt.  The ribs had smashed into the stone and just bruised and injured before I had a grasp on the wall!

Sorry that I fell, but teeth were yet to be brushed, so I limped to the bath, which has a sink bath combo in one room and a loo in the other.  The entry way to get there is four feet tall.
while the cave feature is a lovely idea, there are some things that one wants to be aware of.

Our room is basically the wine cellar in an old (European Old) home.  The wine is in a glassed off section and locked.  The beds look at the wine and the door to the loo is four foot and wide and wooden like a castle door. And heavy and leads to a four foot high tunnel.  All was well till I missed the step.  Drats!

View from the Bed

View from the Bed to the reading wall

the way out

We left our humble wine abode and cave and headed back to Paris.  Walking back through the Christmas market sort of felt like home.  For the Tallahasseean's it is like having the Market days of Tallahassee on every street of the plaza and then some.  Into our lovely hotel at Champs Elysee, the friendly staff and the interesting atmosphere.  I would say the large part of the residents tonight are of mid eastern descent with lots of special arrangements for them.  Their own reception area in the lobby, quite nice and healthy.  The long outfits that they wear are sure to keep them warm as well.

We checked in, cleaned up and took off for the shopping district.  The whole place is decorated head to toe.  It is more fun to watch people that buy things.  The shopping centers have open to the street doors.  The mall guards are everywhere and the people are 6 deep in every direction.  It is amazing the nonchalance of the parents about the children.  They hardly look back as kids run behind ahead and drift through crowds.  Perhaps too much American TV has turned us paranoid.  Or perhaps, I don't understand growing up in a big city where crowds are the norm.  Either way, the whole city is bustling and alive and shopping.

We had a fabulous lunch at the LaDurre, home of the macaroon.  It was tasty, fancy and French all at the same time.  Morgan had the fanciest sandwich I have ever seen and I had lobster.  The lobster was half the price of the sandwich!  I think I got the better deal.

The walk to shopping was pleasant and day was crisp, but not cold.  I enjoyed the walk after the long train ride in from the "Provence" The scenery was so like Indiana except less wind turbines and more castles, and of course more vineyards.  But lots of wheat and corn growth happens here, remarkable.  And beautiful.

But once on the streets of Paris, one is obliged to stay focused on the streets of Paris.  All around you announcements to avoid pick pockets and tricks and you are warned by every hotel agent.  I didn't have any trouble, but then I have a nifty little handbag with hidden pockets in it (thanks to my husband :) )

The Christmas decor is totally extravagant as you can see.

The buildings are all the old opera or archives or palaces and have been transformed for modern use.  All of the stores are beautiful.. All I have to say is that your wallet better be beautiful too!

For our massive entertainment for the night, we attended a show by Olivier Giraud.  I saw his ad as the only all English speaking comedy show in Paris.  I asked Morgan and she said yes.  Once again there was tension as we could not find our way to the show.  Looking forward and looking down did not allow us to see it was on our left the whole time!  Geez, what kind of fuddy duddy fusses over the show directions?

The guy was great fun and to our surprise, when he asked what cities of America are here, there was only one: Tallahassee! Four of us in the audience and all from Tallahassee.  What fortune! So the show goes on and I will not spoil it for you, but the trailer is on youtube.  He was very funny and all of it ringing with some form of truth.  Towards the end of the show, he picks the Tallahassee lady Rainey to come to the stage.  She does extremely well and applauds abound. 

 When the show was over, they graciously waited and we got to meet Pierre Vivier and Rainey of Chez Pierre, in Tallahassee.  We enjoyed their story of love and adventure.  Pierre, that daring rascal, went to Macon, Georgia with the Allman Brothers Band in the 60's and then off to Tallahassee with his love who was in FSU.  How fun, on this trip around the world, I have met two people with Tallahassee connections (not counting my daughter)!  I couldn't find a lot on the internet to share with you about them, but they apparently sold the restaurant to a relative, who had to sell for health reasons.  That was why Chez Pierre became the Front Porch. But apparently, Pierre is still the king of chocolate. As a funny aside, Morgan said she was backpacking through Europe and Rainey said, yep, I did that in 1966!  What a great connection for life.  Awesome choice young Morgan, awesome choice.

 Rainey had the gleam in her eye as she said that to Morgan.  Wondered if there was more to the nod and and the wink than, yep I know that.  There was definitely a pride thing of, I did it myself.  But I secretly wonder if there was a little community of souls that says yes, I did that.  Just that.  And I made it.

And maybe that is why the bistros in Bordeaux, small with 10-12 tables and limited menus still do well.  Do a few things really well and let others do a lot of things sort of well.  There are many big chains that have the chain thing down.  I just think that we have lost the focus of do less, but do it well.  People will pay for quality, if it is known (Tiffany's of Bern's Steakhouse).  People will pay a lot less for psuedo quality that is known (Steak and Shake or Walmart or Best Buy).

And speaking of doing things well, but in a limited space, I have thoroughly enjoyed my trip. The people were fabulous, the food is wonderful and the time with my daughter is priceless.  I will always appreciate my husband's support.  And I hope that the secret wink and nod, "I did that community" for my daughter will eventually be something she looks back on and maybe even writes about.

I love you Morgan Higman and I love you France!

Rising to Saint-Émilion Vineyards and Gare Saint Jean Jaux

Lolly gagging as usual, we headed off to breakfast at 10:30 a.m. too late for a breakfast reservation and too early for lunch.  We walked town square and ended up at the Christmas Booths along the park.  We ate a lovely ham and onion sandwich on a baguette and it was wonderful and warm.  Followed by Chocolate Chaud (hot choc) and the Morgan had Vin Chaud (hot apple and orange in wine with spices).  Bellies full, we strolled the water line and found the mirror of the City.  It is a place on the park where the water is kept very shallow and reflects off the original brokerages of the town.  The town centers around the river which brings in cargo and takes out wine.  It is a very important part of their history.  After waiting for the food to digest and buying Morgan's friend a Christmas present, we head to the tourist bureau.  Most tours are controlled by the bureau.  There are a few exceptions, but very few.

We sit at the station waiting and looking to see who is going with us.  There are two groups: twenty English speaking (this includes others who do not speak French, but whose English is limited as well) and 10 French speaking.  This makes the tour interesting for on the bus, the guide gets to do it twice. She is obviously French and the English is not her favorite part. I can tell you from my limited French, she did not deliver the same information.  For example, she included the price of wines in some circumstances for the French, but not the English.  Curious.  Our arrival at the Chateau in Saint E'million was greeted by hectres and hectres of vines.  They are planted in very straight rows and range from fifty years old to three years.  They are very reminiscent of the corn fields of Indiana.  But also in a sad way, if you have seen a national veteran cemetery, from a distance it made me think of the ones I have seen.

Back to the vineyards.  The skies were blue and cooperative, but up in the hills, the winds are stronger and whoosh will make you cold all through.

The vines up close look like they are sleeping in the cold.

The young tour guide, who is an employee of the Chateau is a young Asian person with a British accent and fluent Chinese.  She was very professional and very scientific about her presentation.  My only comment was that with such a large group, it was very hard to hear her at times.  But she was most gracious about repeating.

Once inside the vat room, we learned how the grapes are washed and turned and then poured into the vats

The vats are emptied into barrels and the barrels are turned and refilled every two weeks.  It is a very precise set up.

The tasting was chaotic with people struggling to get glasses and then return for another.  It is definitely not a professional tasting.  More of a tourist gets a little extra for the buck kind of tasting.  The ceiling was lined with empty bottles that was very eclectic.

For me the fun part (aside from learning about Chateau life), is the mix on the bus.  There was one Asian guy who spoke little English but flashed peace signs and went into the Dame bathroom even when asked not to.  There was a very American white guy with a huge gut wearing a dirty sweatshirt and pants and a cast on one foot.  He was quite loud.  Then there was a group of French women in their sixties who brought lunch to eat with their wine.  And last was a group of eight or so American college kids from Northern Illinois.  One guy was from Texas and he asked, "where y'all from?"  Made my heart jump a little.  Morgan ended up talking with them as they had a lot more in common.

I am pretty sure that Morgan's favorite part was the purchasing of the macaroons (almond cookies that are full of chocolate) and eating them as she walked.  The ham sandwich had long faded for her.  The tour ended with us back at the station.  We caught the metro to Gare Saint Jean Jaques as we needed to have train reservations for the trip to Paris.  The trains were very full.  After leaving the metro, we ended up getting lost yet again (this would not happen if we had wi-fi), eating Thai food and coming back to pack.  Out the door at 7:30 a.m.  back to Paris, only one more day to be here.....

p.s. Someone commented on Morgan's hat (and the way she chooses to wear it).  Her Father told her she looks Swedish, I didn't think so.  She says it gives her street cred with the hostel crew.  She has other adorable hats, so for the record, this is her choice, her head and we will love her anyway!

Rising to the French Attitude

One never feels so dejected as when one is totally ignored.  And the French ignore you better than anyone.  Today presented challenges and not so much of the confrontational kind, but of the non existent kind.  I will give you that proper French etiquette is not followed when you don't know for sure what it is.  But if you stand in a restaurant long enough you should hear, "Je suis désolé, nous avons réservé aujourd'hui" We are booked or come back later, "Je suis désolé, pouvez-vous revenir plus tard?"

And just about when you are ready to starve, you stumble on The Breakfast Club.  Friendly, warm and gracious.  The waitress/hostess is fabulous and I am sure she is part owner.  She switches from Brittish English to French in a second and is comfortable all the way around.  She is so welcoming.  She tells us she has reservations for three of her ten tables.  If we will eat within an hour, she will let us have a table.  We tell her, Americans eat and run all the time and we sit.  The breakfast is fabulous.

And as promised, we were out of her hair in less than an hour and off to tour the streets.

The cold can be a bit piercing when you have just left a warm meal and space.  So the winds told me to not ride bikes, which was our plan.

Skateboards and scooters are considered transportation; bicycles always have right of way.  Pedestrians can cross anytime on their dime, but en masse they can cross anytime.  The preferred way of travel is the less costly.  Better to have good boots and a good coat and ride on the public transport than to have stylish plastic boots and ride a scooter.  Quality is a life thing here. So we walked and stumbled on Notre Dame number two ( the original being in Paris, there are twelve in France).

 Then off to town center and back through the Christmas market. I am scouring the City windows for boots or shoes, surely I cannot leave France without a new pair.  So we are vigorously window shopping for boots when we pass an exclusive leather store for bags and purses.  Oh my.  We duck in and the lady is so friendly and spends 20 minutes telling us how she lived in London and New York, how she hated Miami loved the Keys and how Paris is only a place to visit and it is expensive and crowded.  She explained that Bordeaux is the new Paris.  We talked of the people and the issues that Morgan and I have faced.  She told us the French are secretly jealous of the Americans and their vast country and that is why they are aloof. She said she did not even fit in the the French place even thought she is a French person. She was a lot of fun and her products are fabulous.  I took a moment to be thankful that we met her.  She explained in twenty minutes the culture we had been in for five days.  Ahh to have her as a friend to escort us to restaurants.

We decided to tour the Wine Museum ( Musee du Vin) and Modern Art Museum (Musee Maritime Beaux Arts).  Both were interesting in their own way.  The modern art Musee was really a modern film exposition and it was rather interesting to go through in English.  The Musee du Vin was very interesting as they explain the history of the region, the wines, the labels, the merchants, the fighting.  Money and good wine always brings out the best.

I have never seen wine bottles the size of my body, but I have now.  I understand labels, chateaux and merchant and picture.  I understand blends and regions.  Wow, what a great tour and this is only the musee!

The wine tour tomorrow is the best part of the day.  Morgan and I will strike out early (that has been around 9 or 10) for food and walking before the wine tour.  we are going to Saint-Émilion.

It should be fun and a learning experience. 

Morgan currently has her phone connected to my computer for battery, so I will show you some photos from Saint Michel that I did not include in the last blog.  These cows are at a store in Mont Saint Michel